Jokes On You
by Tribble Master
Summary: Well, Joke’s on you.” The Comedian crossed his arms over his chest. “The only way you may leave this place is if you can answer my riddles three.” Thank goodnes John Winchester's training included a decent smattering of humor.
1. Gummi Bear

This chapter one of a very short mini seriess written for my beta, PlatinumRoseLady, because she is very helpful. Stay tuned, because I'm going to go all out for this.

**Jokes On You**

**Chapter One: The Tease**

"Why don't blind people sky dive?" The Comedian waited a minute and shouted, "Because it scares the shit out of their dogs!"

Not one person in the visually challenged audience laughed. Someone cleared their throat. An aid dog howled. Another person shouted, "Get off the stage!"

At that precise moment a stage light fell, knocking the performer off. God herself was not amused by the stand up. As his body fell off stage, the audience burst out laughing, and gave a standing ovation. The moment of his death was by far, funnier than anything he had said all afternoon.

He stood up, and brushed dust off ghostly form. "Physical comedy is for amateurs," he muttered darkly, "I'll give them something to laugh about."

o-o-o-o-o**42 HOURS LATER**o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean groaned, just starting to wake up. He brought his hand to his face. Instead of massaging his temples however, he smacked himself with a handful of whipping cream that had been sprayed into his hand. He sat up and looked around the room, glaring darkly at anything that moved.

Sam gave away his position by giggling.

"What the hell Sam!!!" Dean eyed him.

Sam fell over laughing. "Priceless!"

"Sam why are you so giggly this morning?" As Dean got out of bed, he noticed that the stitches in his arm (for a wound received only yesterday) had been replaced with pink thread. "And more importantly- you do realize this is war?"

"Can't I be happy?" Sam said brightly, struggling to stand as mirth overflowed.

Dean looked at him suspiciously.

Something was up. And it wasn't just the bucket of water that balanced precariously on the bathroom door as he walked through.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	2. Because then they'd be Baygles

A very short mini seriess written for my beta, PlatinumRoseLady, because she is very helpful. Stay tuned, because I'm going to go all out for this. And by all out, I mean my meds ran out and I just went crazy.

**Jokes On You**

**Chapter 2: The Punch line**

As Dean towel dried his hair from the impromptu shower, he opened the newspaper. The obituaries clearly described a young man who had dropped dead today from laughing too much.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over at his brother. Sam was reenacting _High School Musical _with two dinosaur action figures that had been left in the motel before. "Your singing sucks! Ahh!" The T-rex roared before attempting to eat the raptor.

Dean looked back at the paper, then Sam. "Crap," he sighed. If there was a case in this town (and with Winchester luck there was) and it involved excessive amounts of laughter (which it did) then it was highly likely Sam was next (and he prayed Sam was because, he didn't know if he could handle Sam like this if this was normal). He read the article as it described the man's 24 hours of slight chuckles, to giggles, to insane laughter that literally ruptured his gut.

So focused on the obituary he failed to notice the Gabriella and Troy had been tossed aside. When he looked up Sam was towering over him. "Sam what are you-"

Actions speak louder as Sam began to tickle him nonstop. Dean squirmed away and just barely managed to grab the EMF reader before being pulled back. "Sam! Noooooo!"

Sam laughed and continued the assault; Dean thrust his arm out and clicked the reader on high.

beepbeepBEEPbeepBEEPbeepohmigodnowayBEEPbeepbeepbobeep

Sam froze. Dean pushed him off. "Sam, you're haunted."

Sam's eyes widened to the size of saucers. As horrified realization clicked, he chuckled, "I'm gonna die!"

He laughed. Dean glared. "Seriously, Sam, we've got to figure this out."

"Does the word masticate sound funny to you?" Sam giggled.

Dean shook Sam's shoulders. "This is no time for funny business!!!"

Sam fell over laughing. Dean picked up the paper and read the name of the victim- Jason Padackles. Sam was incapable of keeping a straight face. Dean sighed, he was going to have to do most of the work. Oh no, he panicked as he realized he'd have to do research.

_This can't end well, _he thought.

o-o-o-o-o

The Comedian wandered the streets. Jason had _seemed _like he could take a joke. Oh well. This Sam character had potential; he just had to think of some good material.

Masticate.

Hehehe.

He wondered vaguely if he should keep Sam just for joke ideas. Nah, he reasoned, he had all the time in the world now. He floated over to the motel, pleased to see that the blonde brother was struggling to stop Sam from giggling. Nothing was going to stop the Comedian now.

He laughed evilly.

"Shut up!" Someone called out of a motel room.

o-o-o-o-o

Sam's incessant giggling began to remind Dean of the trip to the zoo he had taken when 12. There had been a porcupine; he remembered clearly, that had mocked him the entire time with giggles. In the end Dean had to have three quills removed from his face and it was still laughing. God, how he hated that porcupine. "Stop it," he snapped at Sam.

At first Dean's main concern had been how to stop Sam's imminent death. After listening to his brother muter and giggle for the last three hours, he decided his new concern was to how stop himself from beating Sam to death with a pillow.

"I'm gonna go get us food," he decided, slamming shut the laptop, "Stay. Here."

Sam pouted. It may have been lunch time, but he wasn't hungry.

When Dean returned, the first thing he noticed was the crayon scribbles on the wall. "Harold what the hell have you done!"

Sam dropped the damning purple crayon and looked at his feet. Then Dean looked up and saw the knives that were stuck in the ceiling. That would be a joy to undo, he thought darkly. "Here, I got us Chinese food."

As he handed Sam the bag, on dagger fell and sliced it open. Noodles spilled all over the floor and splashed onto Sam. "Noodles!" Sam exclaimed, smiling brightly.

Dean eyed the ceiling warily.

Sam was busy showing the T-Rex how to use chopsticks.

Dean took the safest path back to the laptop. On it was a full description of the Comedian he had left open. He was happy to see that he wasn't completely useless at this research nonsense. But it said that he was cremated. Dean frowned and grabbed his duffel. "C'mon Sam, field trip time. We need to go to the Comedian's workshop."

Sam reluctantly left the dinosaurs in a compromising position and got up. "Fine," he said grumpily. He cheered up once more as an idea struck him, "Can we light stuff on fire?"

"Sure Sam," Dean said opening the motel door.

Sam gasped and pushed his past Dean. He pointed across the street, "Didja see that Dean? A chicken just crossed the road!"

He fell on the pavement, rolling and laughing. Dean picked him up, locked the door, and they went on their merry way.

**TO BE CONTINUED **

**please include in your review a word that sounds dirty, but isn't. plz?k!thx-by. **


	3. It Scares the Shit Outta Their Dogs

A very short mini series written for my beta, PlatinumRoseLady, because she is very helpful. This just goes to show you that, when challenged, I keep my promises. So feel free to chalange me. Angst to humor, go ahead.

**Disclaimer: I have nothing against blind people, people with AIDs, horses, or edible bears, and I do not own Supernatural. **

**Jokes On You**

**Chapter Three: Drum roll and Curtain call. **

The Impala rolled to a stop at the rustic townhouse that looked a little creepy in the rain storm. Dean eyed it and gave a low whistle. Sam eyed it and chuckled. Lightning flashed, thunder cackled. They got out, with Dean lugging their duffle bag. Sam was too busy carrying his… actually, last time Dean checked, Sam was just swaggering next to him. Being useless.

"Friggin' Sasquatch," Dean muttered.

"Stupid organism," Sam insulted back, and laughed.

Dean froze. "Sam, can you please pretend to control yourself for one minute?"

Sam pouted and muttered, "You are _such _a control freak."

They walked up to the front door and knocked hesitantly. Sam was distracted by something shinny that vaguely reminded him of a hilarious hippo. Dean steadfastly focused on the door as to avoid acknowledging Sam's annoying presence. It was opened by an elderly gentleman with a timid, "Hello?"

"Is the home of the comedian-" Dean started to say his name but was abruptly cut off.

"Yes, this is the Master's home. _Was. _I meant, was his home until he got the last laugh," the old man said in a raspy voice. He chuckled dryly.

"Okay," Dean said nonchalantly as Sam stood next to him shaking with mirth. "I'm Dean Ackalacki and we are reporters for the Daily Planet."

"I'm Old Man Bates," he looked over at Sam, "Is your co-worker okay?"

"Clark?" Dean turned to Sam, who was bright red. "Oh yeah, he's fine. He's just super sensitive to light."

"So, anyway, the Master…" Dean started to question.

Bates got very excited suddenly and started to mutter. "No! He was 'Master' but I'm the Master of the house now! You may call me Master… Bates."

Dean looked at him. "Uh, yeah Master… Bates can we see his workshop?"

Beside him, Sam had firmly clamped one hand over his mouth to keep the giggles quiet.

Master Bates eyed them warily, but let them in. "What do you need to see anyway? All that phony Comedian had has gags that nobody appreciated."

He added softly, "Nobody appreciated me."

Sam patted his back softly. Bates looked at him, his eyes brimming with unspoken emotion. "It's lonely here, sometimes."

As Dean pushed the door to the secret study open, he heard Sam say, "We'll come back later."

Dean looked over the room, anxious to be done with this case and all its ridiculousness.

"Bates!" a voice shouted from above.

They looked up to see the ghostly form of the Comedian.

"Master!" Bates shrieked.

"Dean!" Sam yelled terrified, but mostly amused.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to stop Sam from touching everything in the room.

"Why yes that's me," he said brightly, picking up a rubber nose.

"I thought his name was Clark…" Old Man Bates said suspiciously.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" the Comedian called again from the rafters. He wafted down to face Sam.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Uh, we do. Just on a dare."

Sam chirped, "We're trying to make you disappear!"

"_Sam."_

Sam smiled, at Dean's glare. "Can we light stuff on fire now?"

"Oh that's it. Well, Joke's on you." The Comedian crossed his arms over his chest. "The only way you may leave this place is if you can answer my riddles three."

Dean was trying to figure what object had the most potential. There was a lot here, and anyone of them could be tying the rouge spirit to this earth. If it would by them time -he sighed, "Sure give me your riddles."

"What…" the Comedian stopped for dramatic pause, "do you call a bear with no TEETH?"

"Gummy Bear," Dean said, crossing off the whoopee cushion, squirt gun, and chattering teeth from his list. Sam poked a small stuffed animal and giggled.

"Okay, I'll give that one to you. Next! Why…" the Comedian stopped to think of something, "don't Seagulls live by the bay?"

Dean's eyes narrowed on a hideous bow tie that sat upon a red pillow in the middle of a pedestal. "Because then they'd be bay-gulls," he called as he walked towards the demonic object.

The Comedian was furious. But so intent was he of thinking a decent riddle, he paid little attention to his guests. Old Man Bates was dusting in the corner. "Ah ha!" he declared triumphant, "and now for the toughest question yet!"

Dean held up the polka dotted monstrosity and listened intently. "Alright," the Comedian said savagely, "A horse walks into a bar, the bartender says-"

"Why the long face!" Dean said flicking his lighter open.

"'I have A.I.D.s!'" Sam completed the archaic joke. Sam fell over laughing so hard, his ribs ached painfully, and gut was sore.

The Comedian snapped. "Drat and Blast."

"Hold on!" Dean called to Sam, sprinkling some salt on the bowtie. With practiced ease he lit the bowtie on fire. John Winchester's training had to be good for something, aside from teaching Dean amazing jokes.

"Oh no!" The Comedian said, suddenly realizing that his ghostly tail was on fire. "Bates stop them!"

Bates dropped his feather duster and huffed. "Why do you always call me when you need me?"

He stormed away to vacuum the kitchen.

The ghost shrieked then disappeared. Gone from his ghostly clutches, Sam was able to finally stop laughing. Dean picked up a squirt gun, just in case. He doused Sam. When no giggles ensued he breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam stood up and cleared his throat. He shuffled in place. He blushed. "That was awkward."

"Just tell me you no longer have any interest in _High School Musical._"

"What?" Sam raised one eyebrow. He blushed, thinking of his deep longing to one day perform in a musical. Preferably _Wicked._ He shook his head sadly.

"Good." Dean snorted, walking out of the old house. "Let's go get pie."

"Hey, Dean," Sam brightened, "why don't blind people sky dive?"

Dean sighed, and shrugged. "Because it scares the shit out of their dogs!" Sam explained.

"That's not funny Sam," Dean said checking that there was nothing else weird in the house before moving on, "But guess what?"

Sam shrugged, dodging a falling chandelier. "What?"

"I owe you _a lot _of pranks."

Sam eyes widened as they walked out the door. "But Dean," he whined, "it was the ghost sickness… you can't blame me for that!"

Dean got into the Impala. He turned on the radio. "I can and I will, Sam. Get in the damn car."

Sam sighed. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep well for the next few days, but at least things were normal.

As he settled himself in the car, he sat on a whoopee cushion.

Well, mostly normal.

**THE END**


End file.
